~ ALFF Fairy Poems, Quotes, and Verse ~

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Fairy QuotesFairies are invisible and inaudible like angels. But their magic sparkles in nature.The fairy poet takes a sheet Of moonbeam, silver white; His ink is dew from daisies sweet,His pen a point of light.~Joyce Kilmer

Nothing can be truer than fairy wisdom. It is as true as sunbeams. ~Douglas Jerrold

The fairies break their dances And leave the printed lawn.~A.E. Housman

Princess Edane... heard a voice singing on a May Eve like this, and followed half awake and half asleep, until she came into the Land of Faery, where nobody gets old and godly and grave, where nobody gets old and crafty and wise, where nobody gets old and bitter of tongue. ~William Butler Yeats, "The Land of Heart's Desire," 1894

When the winds of March are wakening the crocuses and crickets, Did you ever find a fairy near some budding little thickets,...And when she sees you creeping up to get a closer peekShe tumbles through the daffodils, a playing hide and seek.~Marjorie Barrows

[E]very time a child says, "I don't believe in fairies," there is a fairy somewhere that falls down dead. ~James Matthew Barrie, Peter Pan

This is a work of fiction. All the characters in it, human and otherwise, are imaginary, excepting only certain of the fairy folk, whom it might be unwise to offend by casting doubts on their existence. Or lack thereof. ~Neil Gaiman

Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wildWith a faery hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.~William Butler Yeats, "The Stolen Child"

A lady, with whom I was riding in the forest, said to me, that the woods always seemed to her to wait, as if the genii who inhabit them suspended their deeds until the wayfarer has passed onward: a thought which poetry has celebrated in the dance of the fairies, which breaks off on the approach of human feet. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson, "History"

We the Fairies, blithe and antic, Of dimensions not gigantic,Though the moonshine mostly keep us, Oft in orchards frisk and peep us.~Thomas Randolph

Each fairy breath of summer, as it blows with loveliness, inspires the blushing rose. ~Author Unknown

No child but must remember laying his head in the grass, staring into the infinitesimal forest and seeing it grow populous with fairy armies. ~Robert Louis Stevenson, Essays in The Art of Writing

The wall is silence, the grass is sleep, Tall trees of peace their vigil keep,And the Fairy of Dreams with moth-wings furledPlays soft on her flute to the drowsy world.~Ida Rentoul Outhwaite

We call them faerie. We don't believe in them. Our loss. ~Charles de Lint

And as the seasons come and go, here's something you might like to know. There are fairies everywhere: under bushes, in the air, playing games just like you play, singing through their busy day. So listen, touch, and look around - in the air and on the ground. And if you watch all nature's things, you might just see a fairy's wing. ~Author Unknown

The Realm of Fairy is a strange shadow land, lying just beyond the fields we know. ~Author Unknown

Blind folk see the fairies. Oh, better far than we, Who miss the shining of their wingsBecause our eyes are filled with thingsWe do not wish to see.~Rose Fyleman

A rustle in the wind reminds us a fairy is near. ~Author Unknown

I believe in everything until it's disproved. So I believe in fairies, the myths, dragons. It all exists, even if it's in your mind. Who's to say that dreams and nightmares aren't as real as the here and now? ~John Lennon

As cherished the soft heart you share each dayAlways there to help and guide meInspire as my winged fairy of loveAlways and forever butterflies above

As the cherished Light of mine, somewhere in timeHearts joined forever in bond, ’tis my soul you findGentle blessings caressed in sands of lapis time, come my loveEbbing in each twilight I carry your green eyes to mine

O give me the ears of a fairyTo hear the trees growing,The greeting of ants and of earwigs; To hearken the lowingOf tiny green cattle in grass woodsWhere wee winds are blowing.O give me ears of a giant To hear the sun thunderAlong space, to list the moon coming, The earth swinging under: Ah! we hear not and see not, but thinkingFills life up with wonder!

Will you listen while I tell you a tale?It’s not very short, but I tell it very well.I am Annie McGlinty and from an Irish batch,flaming red hair and an attitude to match.Twas spring in the hills and green was the earthwhen Mary, my mother, lay down to give birth.I squalled and wailed as a newborn will doannouncing to the world my life’s debut.My mother smiled proudly at me as she died,nineteen years old and a nine-month bride.My father, Thomas, soon moved on in life,he wept once in grief then took a new wife.Hilda was German with a no nonsense thoughtA straightforward life I was primly taught.So my rebellion came at an early agewhen I walked into a field of wild sage.For hours they searched but I was not found‘til at home they found me in bed safe and sound.“I followed the faeries.” I said, three years old.“There’s no such thing!” My stepmother’d scold.“I heard them sing songs of crickets and bees.They laughed uproariously at my big knees.”I whispered to my friend, a faerie named June.“They danced on flowers and sang to the moon.”June just nodded for she was one of them.I had found her abandoned on a wildflower stem.Her wing was broken and she was blown by a windonto a rose thorn, her poor body was pinned.She stayed out of sight of everyone I knew,often peering from a nearby empty shoe.At six the school sent me home time and again,for disrupting classes with tales of the glen.One boy teased me and called me simple.No one was surprised when I gave him a new dimple.His mom called Hilda and I was spanked-then all of my wandering privileges were yanked.So I slipped out the window and I didn’t look back.June was my companion and we followed the track.We went into the forest of Baylagh Glensearching for faeries we could call friend.It was June who heard their music and saw lightand followed the sound deep into the nightWe watched as they danced on wildflower topsand drank the nectar of flower dew drops.We began a life like vagabond mistand I never once thought about being missed.By day we slept in sun soaked treesby night we danced with gentle night breeze.So consumed were we by life in the glenI could not tell you what day it was when.At morning rays we blinked and yawnedAt dusk we woke and played with fawns.We moved with the weather, finding the fairthough Raindrop Dancing was a pleasure to share.I know that my body began to grow tallfor those around me grew ever more small.My hair a tangle and clothes were of leaves.I wove long grass for a dress with sleeves.A true wild child-I learned nature’s waysto take what is given and find the buffet.June healed her wings with honey and sapthough still she was stiff with each wing’s flap.When Midsummer's Eve made its way back arounda gathering of faerie met on Erin’s Mound.There was magic and starlight and mist and songand each group told how their land got along.Stories were told of forests disappearingand many feared for the loss of their clearing.Man was blamed and I blamed them tooI had forgotten deep down it was what I was true.One midsummer's eve I arrived with Juneto find the faeries singing a mournful tune.It was so unlike the faerie to cry.It wounded me deeply. I had to know why.The story was told of a faerie band gone-wiped out in the sunshine to make way for a lawn.As they slept on flowers the machines mowed them down.Where once there was beauty was now only brown.The faeries lamented and cursed all man kindand suddenly looked, where once they’d been blind.All eyes turned to me and saw my great sizeand the accusations glared from all of their eyesWasn’t I one of those men who destroyed?Taking the earth and leaving a void?I implored them to re-look at the life I had led-where had I eaten and made up my bed?Wasn’t I one of the faerie by right?My difference could only be seen by my height.I stated my case and thought I couldn’t fail.I knew the faerie would love a good tale.I told my memories of leaving mankind.How distant they were in my grownup mind.But rocks were thrown by a remote faerie troupeyelling “Human” at me, they incited the group. They drove me away and told me never return.Though I didn’t believe them I soon was to learn.I tried to follow my own faerie homebut they disappeared in the forest floor loam.I wandered for days not knowing the way.My heart was limp, a wilted bouquet.I thirsted for dewdrop faerie wine.I grew gaunt without faerie feast to dine.I stumbled through thickets and thrashed through weeds'til I found my way blocked by tall river reeds.I heard singing at the river and I desperately called.They found me unconscious on the bank where I’d crawledI awoke in a bed on a mattress so soft.I wept in sheer wonder at clothes I had doffed.My hair was cut short and my skin was cleanand nothing around me was the color of green.A human appeared with food on a trayand she smiled a smile her eyes conveyed.Strange taste on my tongue from all of the food:fried and chopped and mixed and stewed.“I am Iris.” She said as she watched me eat,in awe of my manners when chewing the meat.I nodded to let her know I had heardwhile I stuffed my mouth with the meat of a bird.How quickly I returned to the mind of man,comforted by beds, and clothes and pan.A window from cold, a roof from rain,the pure joy of wearing warm clothes again.“My name is Annie McGlinty” I said.Then feeling stronger I sat up in bed.“I know some McGlinty’s.” Iris said with a sigh.“They lost a daughter all these years gone by.Tis said the faerie took her off to the woodand they looked and looked as long as they could.They found her shoes and clothes on the bankof a fast moving river where they believed she sank.They say the father was inconsolable for a time.But he has six more children all in their prime.They go to my church and they are quite a large clanSolid good people who care for their land.They had cleared way back up into the hillsfarming the earth with all of their skills.They've become quite rich and have bought more land.Then Old Man McGlinty says let the trees stand.Thomas McGlinty has grandchildren galoreFrom all that I hear they’ll have many more.”Iris enjoyed telling me all of the talesof life on this hill and down in the dells.“Our town is small but we’ve persevered,and more people come as the land is cleared.Soon the wilderness won’t be so wildand there will be land to leave to each child.”I healed and learned and grew to be strongand knew time was short when I must move on.Iris’s husband was Bobby CordackI remembered him, though he didn’t know me back.He was one of the few kids who hadn’t tease meback in the days when I talked of the trees.I claimed to be lost from a hiking vacationbut swore there were no worried relation.As soon as I could I thanked my hostand said I’d be hiking my way to the coast.Iris gave me some food in a new pack.I knew my journey-I was going back.On the second day I waited out a stormwith my new clothes I stayed so dry and warm.I climbed hill after hill and through dell after dellI called for June to heed my yellWorried I moved throughout my dayswhen I began noticing a smoky haze.Finally I climbed a tree on a hillThe fire I saw gave me a horrible chill.The forest was ablaze and it had spread wide,deep in the wilderness there was nowhere to hide.I wept in grief at all the life that was lost:the faerie, the animals, the flowers, the moss,the birds, the trees, the trout-filled brook-I shivered and moaned and could no longer look.I sat in shock, I could not move onas I waited for the fire to burn and be gone.On the third day the wind shifted and I needed to run.For choices I had between one and none.I could go south and run before the blazeor turn west into a scorching maze.South I flew down an old deer path,wondering at nature’s unbeatable wrath.There were times the fire skipped over my headI was surrounded by animals that also fled.After hours I felt I had outpaced the blaze.Total devastation assaulted my gaze.As far as I could see were charred remains;where once a forest, now stretched barren plains.Dead trees black against the surrounding graywhen I heard Human voices raised in dismay“Wow, that lightning sure caused a mess.Thank goodness the firebreaks were a success.The fire could have taken thousands of acres more,all the way out to the far distant shore.I hear McGlinty is petitioning for a parkHis slogan is ‘We must save the bark.’His kids are all behind him in this fightThey’ve donated the land that is theirs by right.I heard his wife Hilda was behind the planin loving memory of the lost daughter named Anne.It’s a good thing the forest will grow again.But it would all have been lost if not for men.”I watched the men with shovels in their handas they trekked down a path of McGlinty land.I finally knew the real place I should be.I followed the men to a place known to me.As I neared the home I used to call mineI stopped to watch from a nearby pine.I saw an old man, stooped and tired and sadcome out onto the porch and turn to a ladThen he looked up at me and our eyes met,and he knew me instantly, and we both wept.He called my name and welcomed me homeintroducing me to one of my nephews, Jerome.The family piled out of the door to meet me.Hilda hugged and sobbed in jubilee.I know now I truly belong where I amThese days I am married to a man named SamHe’s a park ranger protecting McGlinty Park.And I stay quite busy with our son, Mark.June sometimes visits but doesn’t stay longWe each are where we both belong.The faeries that are left are safe for now“Forever untouched” is my family’s sacred vow.How I lived and grew and survived my youthI know now truly, was to deliver my truth.Saving the land is saving ourselves,even if you don’t believe in faeries and elves.

Come sit with me, you children,in a circle round the fire;let me tell you all a storywhile the pine log flames get higher;I first heard this here storywhen I was young like you,sitting around a fire like thisand my grandpa told it true.

These young folks from the cityused to come here every Fall,taking pictures everywhere,till one year, as I recall;they went to see the haystackswhere the moon shines on the fence,and to see the country scarecrows,and nobody s seen em since.

There was this farmer, Mr. Brown,who laughed at tales like this;one Halloween he left his homeAfter giving his gal a kiss;he said he left his bestest hat,the one with the widest brim ,out in the field – well, they found his hatbut they ain’t yet found him.

The Rawlins Twins, they was a pairif mischief was to be had;they liked to joke – most every folksaid that they was bad.One Autumn evening they went outto steal their neighbor s corn.They ain’t come back; it s just as thoughthem two was never born.

On Halloween some scarecrows livejust for the night of fear,but if they get your soul, my child,they ll live for one whole year.So if you go into the fields,make sure you don t arriveon October thirty-first,when the scarecrows come alive

On an April afternoon when rain spilled in the streetI settled in the book café and took a lonely seatWith coffee and free magazines, I’d beat the New York gloomAnd think of sun-drenched canyons where cactus flowers bloom.

In the mood for pleasant fare to brighten up the dayA magazine peculiar, to my table found its wayFunky girls, Medieval Babes kept me charmed, and thenI came across an article: “In Search of Faery Men.”

Felicity lamented the lack of presence maleWho proudly would come out as Fae, not garbed by fashion staleHas masculine expression lost its ancient fire?Are men just too distracted by games that don’t inspire?

It became most clear to me this faery maid was rightFelicity and Oliver were seeing different lightHer heartfelt message sounded like the song of playful birdI took my leave and walked the streets, and this is what I heard…

With greenman’s courage, pixies’ play, and graced with notes of PanCome woodland sprites and elves and trolls to reunite with ManReclaim your spirituality, in nature find your placeRemember myth and history and Faerieland embrace!

Bring your men to festivals, join people of the SidheWhere they might find in themselves a masculinityThat frees male spirits, hardened minds, unfetters captured soulsBetter times await you when you take up mythic roles.

A rhyming poet, just a year, I heard the gracious callI vowed that I would raise the bar, give Faerieland my allFight negative emotions that could obstruct my wayDiscard the city’s pressures and find my inner-Fae.

At very least she promised, I’d have a super timeWith honest, calm intention, I might find the sublimeI made up my mind with sound resolve, for this could do no harmTook her advice and made my plans to go to Spoutwood Farm.

In flowered shirt and feathered hat and glitter in my beardI entered gates to wonderland, feeling scared and weirdSoon lost my inhibitions and found my inner boyWho longed for some adventure and yearned to feel some joy.

My eyes beheld such visions rare and stunning winged-maidsRiver folk, woodland elves, greenmen of various shadesA bright blue faerie bugler blew a hearty soundIn a land that time forgot, where vivid hues abound.

Children’s laughter filled the air to melt a cautious heartI took my tea with little folk, a delightful way to startWith Posie Fae and company, we declared our prideThat we were friends of faeries and Nature was our guide.

Sweet Pea faerie told the tale of KUBIANDO wayShe christened brand new faeries and taught us how to sayI believe in faeries, I believe in me, I know who I am, and I love the way we be,Celebrating life, in global harmony, I believe in faeries and I believe in me!

Linda Biggs, the Rainbow Maid, defiant faerie-proudGave advice and lessons to stand out in faerie-crowdWhile gaining proper confidence and learning faerie goodShe reminded us to do our part, support our neighborhood.

In my faerie classrooms, as a fledgling in a nestI became enchanted, progressing in my questLearning from the landscape and finding local loreAri Berk suggested would present a sacred door.

To understanding myth and a deeper sense of beingConversing with our ancestors in an act of seeingOur stories started long before the hours of our birthExploring ancient wisdom brings us closer to the Earth.

From Maypole Court to Frodo Hill and places in betweenFiner artisans and craftsmen I think I’ve never seenLeather, jewelry, woolen goods for faeries to adornTheir bodies, minds, and spirits where faerie style is born.

Drummers, strings, and bagpipes to make young pagans danceOn stages set throughout the realm, their spirits to enhanceA gently plucked fantasia from the harp of Lady GreeneSoprano voice for faerie song, most sweet and so serene.

A gentle shaman told me, to see through the veil I’d needAn open heart, with softer eyes, and a loving creedGive thanks to every season, sing the glory of the MayAnd celebrate existence on every given day.

I felt the blessings and the gifts offered by this WoodMy feelings swelled and lasted as Felicity said they couldI found a path to better days and had tremendous funTo the city I returned, but felt not all was won.

For faerie is a journey involving play and workWisdom calls for knowledge, so from study never shirkI will continue on this trail, release the ties that bindJoin my brothers and my sisters and be of faerie kind!

Mother Nature I will serve and spread my faerie wingsAnd in my fashion I will find how best my tenor singsIn heated New York city streets, through the summer’s hazeI’ll seek out the faerie realm and find where faerie plays.

Stranger, who art thou passing here tonight? Hast thou no fear?Come not to graveyards in the nightwhen the half-moon, pale and dim, gives light;The witching moon tis called, or horned,once sacred to the Druids, adornedin white, who called with darkest spellfearsome demons out of hell,and some of these are living yet!In bone-yards like this they re metHark – hear ye that crunch of toothand bone? They feast at night, in truth,on corpses and sometimes foolslike you who come to see the ghouls.Too bad my words ye proudly scornedFor surely ye were duly warned.Nay, stop! Tis too late to runfrom ghouls, see? For I am one!